


The Way Things Could Have Been

by Mandergee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 084, F/M, Marriage, Original Character - Freeform, There's no sign of Grant Ward, mention of Audrey Nathan, work-in-progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2452244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandergee/pseuds/Mandergee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>May ha never thought an undercover mission could stir up so many memories...or cause her so much pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way Things Could Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this months ago, and once I heard about Season 2 Episode 4 I wanted to get it posted before the episode airs.  
> It's not complete, but I do intend on completing it.
> 
> Also: I tried my best on editing, but I apologize for any errors. I will absolutely have someone else go through it when it's finished.

“I hate undercover.”

“But you pull it off so _well_.” Skye circled her, clockwise, and May watched warily as she began to nod and the smile on her face grew steadily larger. “Yeah. Y _eah_ , I can see this. _Man._ You and A.C are gonna be the _hit_ of the social season.”

“That's not what we're there for, Skye. We're-”

“I know, I know. You're there to get your hands on the alien tech so we can contain...whatever it is. I get it. But you're gonna be _hot_ with the media.” She reached out and smoothed a piece of fabric on the skirt, and not for the first time did May find herself feeling completely ridiculous. The downfall of S.H.I.E.L.D meant there were fewer and fewer agents available to do the necessary tasks, and she'd found herself back in the fray of undercover even as she'd been adamant that she'd intended to avoid it.

“I _really_ hate this,” She sighed, and turned to the mirror behind them. In it stood a woman she almost didn't recognize, a woman whose skin glowed with anticipation and whose eyes sparkled like stars in the light of the dressing room. Her hair had been neatly twisted up, pinned with glistening diamond clips that Simmons had assured her would pick up camera angles from both side and back, allowing her to get the most video feed during their time at the venue. “This is unnecessary.”

“I don't think so.” Skye looked pleased with herself, reaching up for one final tug on the straps that so neatly hugged May's shoulders. “I love how this dress looks- I don't think Simmons or I could pull it off. Besides, if you ever get married, this is a great chance to see what you'd look like.”

“I _was_ married.” At the immediate silence she smiled, turned back to the mirror and inspected her reflection as the smile grew sad, wistful. When she'd married Trevor there hadn't been time for a dress and a ceremony, she mourned, and it had been a regret she hadn't wanted to admit. The proposal had been as surprising as the desire to marry a man she'd only known for a month, and they'd managed a run to City Hall in the middle of the day, knowing he was off on a mission the following. It had been impulsive, rash, and everything she'd always wanted to be and found Trevor had brought out in her. He'd been exciting, and the day she'd married him had been one of the happiest days of her life. “He died. A long time ago.”

“Oh.” She imagined someone had told Skye about 'the cavalry', knew that Bahrain was still a part of the legend even if the remainder of the facts had become lost in a grandiose tale spun in years at The Academy. The stories told about her were always full of violence and tactical strategy, but none touched on her private life. Her marriage, her losses, why she'd retired from field work. Few people knew her story, and she'd liked it that way. “Well. You look like you're ready. I wonder how Coulson is doing.”

“Coulson's ready.” She'd never seen him in a tuxedo before, caught sight of his reflection next to hers and wondered how they'd gone through so many undercover missions and the occasion had never called for one. ' _He looks like James Bond- more Roger Moore than any other'_. His expression was calm, difficult to translate, and she wondered how much of their discussion he'd overheard. “Skye, Simmons needs some help with the video feed. Something about synchronizing the data and-”

“I'm on it.” Skye's hand reached out quickly for a final brush down of the wide, feathered skirt, and she gave May a smile before heading for the door. “Don't forget the necklace. Simmons needs to test the audio feed before you guys walk down the aisle.”

“I've got it covered.” As the door closed and the room fell silent again, Coulson leaned against the wall and she felt his eyes on her as she looked herself over. She ran her hands down the smooth ivory bodice and felt the gentle rise of the boning underneath, felt confident that she could breathe even as she wondered if the memories might make her sick. It was the kind of dress she'd secretly wanted for her own wedding, if she and Trev had ever managed to have a formal ceremony. She'd always imagined them dancing together, his arm around her waist, and she felt her throat tighten up at the thought of it.

“May.”

“I'm almost ready.” She reached for the necklace that lay on a nearby table, felt his fingers close over hers.

“Let me.” He stepped up behind her and his breath was warm on her skin, the brush of his fingertips sending a shiver down her spine. The single teardrop diamond on a silver chain was deceptively beautiful, containing a sophisticated mic that would allow Simmons to pick up everything said once it was activated, and as Coulson fastened it around her neck she thought it was the final perfect piece needed to complete the illusion. “You look beautiful, May. I think if Trevor had the chance to do it right he would have thought you were the most beautiful bride he'd ever seen.”

She turned and reached for the lapel of his jacket, fingers brushing down to straighten it in a mimic of Skye's earlier actions. He hadn't had anyone helping him get ready, she'd guessed, and would never have noticed the light scuff of dirt against the black.

“I'm ready.” Her arm looped through his, and she smiled as he opened the door to usher her through. “Let's do this.”

 

 **One Week Prior, the Playground**.

 

“You're saying there's no way we can actually infiltrate this.” She flipped the pages of the file he'd handed over, wondered why he'd _bothered_ handing it over if he was going to tell her it was an impossible mission. They hadn't had a mission in weeks, spending time rebuilding S.H.I.E.L.D from the safe haven of the Playground, and when he'd finally summoned her to his office she'd felt relief at the chance to get her hands dirty again. “What's going on, Phil?”

“We need to get in there.” He'd forgone the suit jacket and tie in recent weeks, sat behind his desk in a sky blue dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. She couldn't quite get used to it, and averted her gaze even as his eyes flickered up from his own paperwork. “It's an 084- Simmons was able to pick up a reading while she was running some scans. We don't have any more information than that, but we also know that we need to keep any alien tech out of Hydra's hands, so we have to find a way to get in there and bring it out in one piece.”

The file had been limited, based only on what she knew now to have been retrieved by Simmons in one of her few forays out of the medical bay. Fitz was still in a coma, and his stalwart companion had remained by his bedside day in and day out since they'd arrived, though May was well aware what it was costing her to sit and watch him breathe, aided by machines. What it had given her was a background of the situation, where the 084 was located and what it was that prevented them from simply walking in and taking it. This time there was no foreign police force at work, no international law that had bearing on whether or not an agent of a now-terrorist-labeled organization could sneak in and take what they liked. The problem, she pieced together, was that they were no longer a government sanctioned agency at all. And until they'd gotten back in the government’s good graces, they'd be left to determine how to carry out certain missions without the luxuries once afforded them.

“So we need to get in.” She placed the folder back on the desk and stepped away, watching Coulson's expression carefully as he began to study his own copy again, her brow furrowing when his eyes stopped moving across the pages. She knew his face, knew his tells as well as she knew her own, and this one spoke volumes- volumes that she didn't care for. “You're thinking undercover.”

“There's a reason Fury asked if you had my back, and this is one of them. You always know what I'm thinking.” She ignored the playful tone, let out a heavy sigh as it occurred to her the limitations of their team and those left who were trained for undercover ops. “You and I-”  
“Are the only two available to carry this out. I know.” She'd been tempted to ask why Trip couldn't be going in undercover, but knew that his current bond with Simmons meant that he would more helpful to her at the base. He was better equipped to assist in the more technical aspects that Skye wasn't familiar with, and take the place normally held by Fitz. “Do you have a plan?”

“I do.” He'd been fumbling in a drawer as she spoke, pushed himself away from the desk and rounded the cluttered surface with his hands clasped behind him. “I think it'll work. Skye's going to iron out a few bugs, and she should be ready in a minute with an update on the situation.”

“All right. I'll-” She stopped as he dropped to one knee, fear clutching at her as she wondered if he was having a relapse. The GH serum hadn't acted up in weeks, aftereffects seemingly vanished, and her emotions swirled in a sickening cocktail as she searched his eyes for a sign. _They look normal. But what if the signs have changed?_ “Phil? What's going on?”

“Melinda May,” In his hands was a box, unobtrusive and black, and as she stared down at him the top flipped open to reveal a ring, a brilliant sapphire that caught the overhead lighting and burned with blue fire. “Will you marry me?”

 --

“Dude. What a _rock._ ” Skye's hand was on hers before she could stop it, and May rolled her eyes in Coulson's direction as an amused smile crossed his face. Her own eyebrow raised just a fraction, and the smile quickly faded. “Man, A.C. You popped the question. _Nice_.”

“It's for the op, Skye. We're not _actually_ getting married.” May pulled her hand away as Coulson drew the younger agent aside and gestured to the laptop propped on the bar nearby.

“Did you hack into the system and get the dates we needed?”

“Of course I did.” The screen revealed a hodgepodge of information, and May found herself fiddling with the new adornment to her finger while leaning over Skye's shoulder to scan the data. It still felt strange, and she imagined it would for a while still. “So you said yes, huh?”

“It's part of the disguise.”

“Doesn't explain why you're already wearing it. If he had to check the sizing, that's all in your file.”

“Just get us what we need.” Coulson interjected, leaning over Skye's other shoulder and inspecting the screen himself. “The site is only available for three months of the year, and those three months are only booked for weddings. If we don't get in now, we won't be getting in at all.”

“Why bother with the whole marriage thing? Why not just go in as guests?” She'd considered that angle, after Coulson had slipped the ring on her finger and she'd managed to find her voice again. It wasn't often he surprised her, after years of knowing his behavior, and once she'd been able to think she'd asked the same question.

“Guests are limited to public areas. The bride,” His eyes met hers for a moment, and May felt a familiar flutter in her stomach. “and groom have the run of all areas normally off limits. We'll have access to the part of the castle that the readings have been coming from, and we should have no problem pinpointing the location of the 084 once inside.”

“Got it, Mr and Mrs. A.C. I book the dates, you get yourself one hell of a shindig.” _Shindig. She's been spending too much time with Phil_. He was the only one she could ever imagine using the term 'shindig' in a sentence and somehow getting away with it, his fondness for classics leaking into his everyday conversation more often than she could count. As she sent a sideways glance in Skye's direction, the young woman's smirk was quickly hidden by the edge of the laptop as she ducked back behind it. “I'll let you know when everything's all set.”

“That's fine. I'll be down in the infirmary.” May left them, heard Coulson's footsteps headed in the opposite direction- up to his office, she assumed, knowing he'd want to have another look over the 084 readings. She wanted to check in on FitzSimmons, get an idea of what the girl was dealing with before she asked if she'd had a chance to read the mission parameters Skye had forwarded down to her tablet.

She'd have plenty of time, she thought, to brush up on her own role in the mission. After all, it was the bride's prerogative to take whatever time she needed.

\---

“Are you going inside?” Her body jerked at the sound of his voice, and she realized she'd allowed herself to slip so deeply into her own thoughts that she hadn't even picked up on Coulson's approach. He was the only one who could ever catch her off guard, and as he stepped up to join her at the window she did her best to hide the fact that, yet again, he had.

“No.” She could pick up on the subtle hint of his aftershave, the soft pine scent drifting over her and reminding her of fall. He always wore the same brand her husband had, and sometimes she wondered if that wasn't what she'd found so comforting about Phil Coulson- that he reminded her of a more comfortable time. “I just came down to check on her. She doesn't need the distraction.”

“Maybe she does.” He offered her a folder, Fitz's name clearly printed on the labeled tab. “These are the last readings she updated involving his condition. There's no change, May. There may never be.”

“Should we really be pulling her in on this one?” She'd stood there, watched Simmons tend to Fitz like he was all that mattered in the world, and as the young woman had bent over him to brush a soft kiss against his forehead, she'd wondered if it was all going to be for nothing. Their missions, their research, rebuilding an organization that was founded on protection when they couldn't even protect their own. “She doesn't need this. Not now.”

“We don't have a choice. Jemma is the only one familiar with the tools Fitz uses, and with Trip assisting we'll have a better chance of retrieving the artifact than we would without her.” He fell silent, let his gaze travel to the boy in the bed, lying still. The silence between them stretched out, easy as it always had been, and she wondered why else he'd come down. It hadn't been just to give her a report, and she watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye until he shifted uncomfortably and spoke again. “You've been thinking about Trevor, haven't you?”

“A bit,” May glanced down at her finger, realized she'd been twisting the ring back and forth as they'd been watching Fitz. She could remember a time when she'd been playfully harassed for fidgeting with one before, and it made her heart ache as she heard Trevor's voice ring out clearly in her mind. _Lian, you're going to lose that thing if you keep it up._ _ My  _ _mother might not be a secret agent, but she's capable of making someone disappear if they lost a family heirloom._

_Sweetheart, I'm not going to lose it. Besides, your mother loves me._

“It won't be a problem.” She reached out to give back the folder, and as she did the sapphire in her ring caught the light and glistened brightly. Her husband's eyes had been that blue-that deep, brilliant blue- and she remembered staring into them for hours, madly in love with the way he'd stared back. Somewhere in her belongings she still had her wedding ring, buried in a tiny white box beneath the few personal items she'd brought on board, and while she could never quite figure out why she needed it-why she _still_ needed it- she also couldn't bring herself to leave it behind. His mother had insisted on the return of her engagement ring, and while she could say she agreed with the need to keep it in the family she couldn't deny the fact that it's absence had been sorely felt on her finger for weeks.

“That's not what I asked.” He stepped up to the window, tapped on the glass to signal Simmons to their presence, and in the smile of acknowledgment May saw a world of pain. “I'm going to relieve her for a few hours, tell her to get some rest.”

“All right. I'll check in with Skye and see what kind of progress she's made with the guest list.” Before she'd come down Skye had summoned her to run through a list of suggestions for wedding guests, and while the thought made her head spin, she had to acknowledge the amount of work that was required to make the op believable. The suggestion had been to invite anyone who had ties to local families- those with more prestige in the community who would be hard pressed to decline an invitation to any event that might give them more time in the public eye. _If we make you and AC look famous enough, they'll accept the invite whether they know who you are or not_. “We'll catch up in the morning?”

“Good night, May.” As he entered Fitz's room she headed back, hand on the railing that led upstairs as she allowed for one last glance over her shoulder. She could see the young scientist shaking her head and Coulson looking stern as his own bobbed up and down in silent insistence. Simmons would go upstairs, she knew, but she doubted the girl would sleep.

Given the memories that fought their way viciously from her subconscious, May began to wonder if even she would get any sleep that night.

 ---

She'd been plagued with dreams since they'd begun laying the groundwork for the mission, nights full of images she didn't recognize. Trevor's face as she knelt in the dirt to plant her garden and smeared soil all over his crisp white shirt- the way his eyes had begun to tear when she'd told him she wanted to have a baby and stop being Agent May for while. Those moments had never happened and when she'd gasped herself awake May had begun to wonder how many of them she could take before she'd crack.

“Hey. Guest list is finished- I've already gotten RSVP's from most of them. I told you, anyone who's anyone was going to accept if they thought this was worth watching. I think the bio I wrote up gave them a pretty awesome picture of the two of you.” Skye. The cabin had been quiet and May had retreated there in an attempt to balance her thoughts, but Skye was a whirlwind of excitement and energy, and balance didn't follow in her wake.

Her left hand moved in front of her face, and May thought she could see a slight tremor in her fingertips. It was unsettling, and she lowered her arms to turn as Skye heaved her body up onto a nearby stool.

“What did you tell them?”

“Nothing too exotic. Just the basic background- rich, privileged heiress meets geeky self-made millionaire at a Schwarma in New York. Whirlwind romance, blah-blah-blah.”

“Blah-blah-blah. Really.”

“Yup. Just enough to intrigue the masses, not enough to require a deep background check. Relax. Besides, you have bigger things to worry about than your bio.” No one could like the sound of that, and May had learned long ago that while Skye's particular skill set was undeniably beneficial...it also came with sometimes less-than-desirable stipulations. “ _You_ have to buy a dress.”

“It isn't going to go that far, Skye. We get the castle reserved, filled with guests to allow distraction, then we're in and out of the restricted areas with the 084. No ceremony- no dress.”

“You need to access areas past the bridal suite, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then you need to look like you're getting married, or no one's going to buy it for a second. I dropped some hints with local media- you'll be caught going in and out of a bridal boutique, carrying the dress. It'll get the interest going, help us with the guests.”

 _It wasn't supposed to go this far._ Wearing a dress, trying on shoes, doing her hair... her stomach churned as the words sunk in, merged with the whisper of Trevor's voice from her dream, his 'I love you's' and the way he'd said her name. She struggled to find the calm, curled her fingers into her palms until the pain became reality, and the sound of Skye's voice was a roar in her ears.

“I can't do this now.”

“May-”

“I said I _can't do this now_.” She strode past and headed for safety, for the relative quiet of her bunk where she could close the door and be alone with her thoughts. Finding her center, balancing herself- it was the only way she was going to make it through this mission, although after it was over...she didn't know what she was going to do next.

\---

“Something's wrong with May.” Coulson heard the footsteps before her voice, was turned to face the top of the stairs as Skye's head became visible and she stepped onto the landing. “She's upset- I've never seen her like this before.”

“She's got a lot on her mind.”

“I get that- she hates undercover work. But this plan, you guys are the only ones qualified to do it, so she has to suck it up. Maybe you can talk to her.”

“It won't help.” He stood in front of his closet, staring at the tuxedo he'd balanced on a hangar in front of so many grey suits, wondered what it was he'd been thinking when he'd decided to only ever wear grey. “She'll be fine, Skye. Don't worry about it.”

“There's more to it than that, though.” Turning his head he saw her leaning against the doorframe in his office, watching him carefully. “It's Audrey's ring, isn't it? That's why you had it.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” He stepped back to get a wider view of the evening wear before turning his body to face her, trying his best to keep the expression on his face impassive. Skye was the only person he'd imagined would eventually connect the dots and actually vocalize her suspicions, and he had to admit to himself that he hadn't prepared for the scenario to present itself so quickly.

“The ring. Admit it- you bought it for her, didn't you?” She crossed her arms, shifted slightly, and bore the familiar suspicious gaze into him. “That's not what has May so upset, but I bet it's a part. And the penguin suit. You already had that, too.”

He'd been pleased to remember he had it, dug through the wealth of suits before finding it buried between Armani and Dolce, the midnight black reminding him of the second time he'd laid eyes on Tony Stark at the charity gala. At that point in time he'd never imagined owning a tuxedo,let alone wearing one himself,but an evening at the opera with Audrey had determined the final necessity of owning the rarely needed suit of clothing.

Audrey. She'd loved his suits, and he'd found himself rarely wearing anything else even when the occasion had offered the opportunity to dress down. She'd always taken care of them, careful not to crease the jackets as he'd lain them gently over her shoulders in the car; always hanging them on a chair before they'd make love to the sound of Vivaldi softly playing in the background. May, on the other hand, had been the cause of more than one occasion when he'd found his pockets sewn shut, a slight smile betraying her innocence every time he'd come forward with accusations.

“I've had it for a while- just haven't found the right time to return it.” He didn't say that he'd tried, contacted the jeweler who had so carefully designed the thin silver band with a perfect sapphire set in the middle. Audrey had always said that his eyes had been her favorite feature and he'd picked a stone that he thought had best captured the physical part of him she'd loved so much. He thought it shone as brightly as she had, and as he'd walked out of the jeweler he hadn't been able to picture anything but how it would look when he slipped it onto her finger.

But the jeweler had declined the return, so the box was put away. Until May had walked into his office for her briefing, and the idea for their undercover op had been borne in a moment of sheer inspiration.

“You want my opinion, I wouldn't tell her.” He looked up quickly at the comment, realized he'd been staring at his own hand with the palm up, mimicking the day he'd held the box and planned how he'd ask Audrey to marry him. “Something else is bothering her. I don't think telling her that the ring on her finger was meant for your girlfriend is exactly going to lighten her mood.”

“I think she already knows.” May had, he knew, seen the paperwork that had been filed to grant him leave when he'd visited Audrey- her stint in Administration had given her both access and reason for it. It had been her signature, scrawled in the graceful whorls and loops he could recognize in a heartbeat, authorizing the allocation of ground transpo when or if he'd needed it. _Her_ signature, vetting Audrey Nathan as the trusted significant other of one Phillip J. Coulson. Once or twice he'd thought about her, pen in hand, and wondered if she'd felt anything for him when she'd signed her name. “Our relationship isn't like that- she won't have a problem with where it came from. It's for a mission, and May understands.”

“Funny. The way she's been looking at it, I think she might have different feelings.” It was all matter-of-fact to Skye, and he almost smiled at how casually she could offer up her take on their emotions. _Her_ reaction to the ring had been, he remembered, similar to the way he'd imagined Audrey's girlfriends would have reacted when they saw the glistening stone on the delicate fingers. She wouldn't have been able to wear it when performing, and he'd always thought he'd tuck it safely into his pocket as he sat in the front row and let the music wash over him. When they'd been married he could have gone to every performance, could have adopted a persona that allowed for evenings home and dinner with his wife. It would have been perfect.

In only seconds, when that staff had pierced his heart, he'd mourned for the life that could have been- and now he mourned all over again.

“You really loved her.”

“....I did.” The admission didn't hurt as much as he'd expected, but the guilt that rushed to fill the hole surprised him. Guilt, maybe, at the fact that the ring that represented the love he'd had was now on the finger of a woman he'd loved in a different kind of way for as long as he could remember. He'd told Skye their relationship wasn't like that, but the entire truth was while it hadn't always been, he wondered now if he didn't want more from it than he used to.

“But you love May, too. I can see it.” _From the mouths of babes,_ he thought, though he'd never have dared tell Skye he looked at her like the daughter he and May might have had, if things were different. The daughter she and Trevor might have had, if her life had turned in another direction. Skye was a breath of fresh air they'll all needed, and her astute observations were something he valued as much as he valued May's dedication despite her obvious pain. “I know you probably know what else is going on, and whatever it is you and May can take care of it. I just hope it's not going to hurt her more than it already has.”

“I've got her, don't worry.” He reached out and smoothed the lapels on his tux, wondered if the fabric would be as comfortable against his body as it did beneath his fingers. Maybe it was out of style, would make him stick out like a sore thumb among the blue bloods and his undercover bride-to-be. “How's her dress coming along?”

“That's what I was coming to talk to you about, actually.” Skye crossed her arms, nose crinkling in frustration. “She won't go for it. Said there's no need to.”

“She's the bride. The last time I checked, they wear wedding dresses.”

“Yeah, well, May says the mission isn't going to get that far and she isn't going to need a dress.” The tablet Skye held lit up with a touch of her finger and she offered it to him. On the screen was a dress, a gif that rotated slowly beneath the banner for a local bridal boutique. It was a marriage of white feathers and lace, with a skirt that flowed behind like water and a delicately boned bodice cut in a subtle scoop neck. All he knew of dresses was what he'd learned from undercover missions in the past, and the combination painted in his mind a mental picture that he had no doubt accurately predicted how May would wear it. “This is the one I found for her- and I think she's wrong. We should have it, just in case things go south.”

Coulson had thought about that, thought about how things could easily fail and they'd find themselves with no direction to go except to the end of the aisle among strangers. Marriage licenses could be forged and he had every intention of having Skye prepare for the endgame in any scenario, including the paper that would bind him with May even in fiction.

“Send them her measurements.” Skye's face brightened as he handed back the tablet with the dress still revolving slowly. “May feels that any preparations outside of the norm are unnecessary, but we're in a delicate situation and I'd like to be prepared for anything. You wrote up the background- tell the dressmaker that the bride is unavailable for fittings, and we're willing to sign whatever needs to be signed in order for them to release it using that data. It should be believable, given what little the public has read about her.”

“Roger that.” As her footsteps faded on the stairs Coulson looked back at his tuxedo, thought about the dress he'd just seen and the way his mind had laced Melinda into it. It hadn't been difficult to imagine her in a wedding dress and on his arm, walking down the aisle to a future that wasn't real to complete a retreival that wasn't guaranteed. She'd go as far for him as he would for her, but if what they were striving for couldn't be found...he wondered if her faith in him would remain and allow her to follow him again. Of if she'd close herself away, and he'd lose her.

\---

May hadn't expected to run into anyone in the kitchen that late in the morning, the artificial windows Koenig had so proudly shown off already revealing sun high in the sky above the currently programmed desert climate. Agent Triplett was leaning against the counter-coffee in one hand, toast in the other- and his head inclined toward the coffee pot as his eyes followed her through the doorway.

“I hear congratulations are in order.”

“It's a mission.” She felt like a broken record, for all the good the words were doing. Everyone knew what it was, the reality of it, yet something left her feeling compelled to repeat the same answer every time. Simmons would have told him everything, of course, and she could picture the two of them with heads bent together over a tablet as Fitz snored gently in the bed beside them. He'd know Simmons and her stand on the situation, remaining by her side while she worked, and it was a relationship May admired, though she admitted to never having expected it. “You're up late.”

“Late night. Been working on a few pieces of surveillance equipment- delicate stuff.” He sipped coffee and watched her over the rim of the cup as she rifled through the cupboard. “You sure I can't take this mission off your hands? I bet I can get in and out of a place like that pretty quick without being detected.”

“If that was all it was, I'd take that route myself.” She poured the strong, black liquid into a mug and drank deep, sighing as the caffeine shocked her system. Most mornings she preferred tea, especially after a tai chi routine, but the heated argument with Skye had left her feeling more drained than she'd imagined. “But it's a delicate situation. Coulson and I can handle it.”

“Seems like an awful lot of prep for one piece of alien tech.”

  
“These days we can't be too careful. Anything we can keep out of Hydra's hands gives us an edge, and we're not exactly part of official channels anymore. Undercover is the best way to stay under the radar.”

“Of course.” The crunch of his breakfast was the only sound for a moment as she stared into the blackness of her coffee, and May could practically hear the question before it was asked. “You ever been married?”

“Once. A long time ago.” When Koenig had asked she'd been stunned for a moment, had wondered if he'd seen the blip on his radar as her heartbeat raced and she struggled to hide her surprise. No one had ever asked her about her marriage, had ever considered it essential to her background or her loyalties. But he'd asked and she'd answered, and then they'd moved on, without another thought to it.

But Trip was quiet, patient as she sipped at her coffee and struggled to keep the emotion from choking her while she pictured his face in her thoughts and remembered the way that she'd loved the man she'd lost.

“Look, we don't have to-”

“It's okay.” The coffee was suddenly too bitter, and she set the mug on the counter beside her before leaning heavily against it. “Trevor and I met at the Academy. He was an instructor- an elective course on corporate espionage.”

“Sounds heavy.”

“Like I said, elective. Some of our missions could require a cover in business, and a lot of specialists were lacking in administrative backgrounds. Trevor Wen was brought in to give perspective, teach us how to best infiltrate whose presence and pockets were deep enough to hide their true nature and let them employ alien artifacts without notice. I was at the top of his class.”

“And you fell in love with him.”

“I fell harder than I've ever fallen for anyone.” She'd thought about Phil, she could remember, when Trevor had cornered her in the corridor after the fall semester had let out and she was free of his courseload. He'd asked her to dinner and she'd seen Coulson at the top of the stairs looking down as she'd found herself, much to her surprise, saying yes. “We got married a year later- after he'd been inducted into S.H.I.E.L.D as a honorary field agent and they sent him on his first mission. A corporate firm that was suspected to have ties to Hydra and in possession of an artifact S.H.I.E.L.D suspected could have global repercussions if it was ever activated.”

“What happened then?”

“He died. I never got a field report- Fury told us the mission was classified a level ten and at the time none of us were authorized for that sort of access. Even when Phil was promoted he couldn't get any information, and eventually...I had no choice but to let it go.” When she'd been told there was nothing, no way to reach the answers she needed, she'd kept herself sequestered for days in the tiny apartment in DC. Trevor had never had the chance to see it- she'd wanted to surprise him with a little piece of home they could use as a meeting point whenever their paths would cross. Being married in S.H.I.E.L.D gave no one special favor- they went where they were needed, and going into it the reality had been known. “We'd been married for a week.”

“You loved him a lot, didn't you?” The room blurred for a moment and she looked away, but felt his eyes on her as Trip remained where he was and watched her carefully. He'd proven himself more than she'd thought possible in the short time they'd known him, and the extent of his familiarity was there in the way he waited. “Look, May- if this is too much for you, Director Coulson gets that.”

“He does. But we can't afford emotion, not now.”

“I don't know if emotion is something you can leave out of this.” She followed his gaze to the ring on her finger, realized she'd grown so used to it being there that she didn't think about it anymore. “Wasn't Coulson engaged once, before he died?”

“No, but that has nothing to do with-” But it did, May realized with a start, as Trip's point became clear. That the ring hadn't just _been_ there but had once been intended for Audrey, and the only thing that had kept Coulson from proposing may very well have been the same thing that had caused _her_ so many sleepless nights after the news had reached S.H.I.E.L.D HQ. On the day that Phil Coulson had died... the world had stopped for more than one person. “Phil and I- we're the best people for this job, and I'm not willing to let my emotions past jeopardize our chances at getting this artifact before Hydra does.”

“Well, I think the two of you need to take care of this before someone's _emotions_ compromise this mission- that's all I'm saying.” He'd finished the toast and now placed his empty mug in the sink, glancing at the doorway as Simmons appeared and cast a weary smile at the two of them. “Hey. You ready to get back to work?”

“Agent May.” Her color was pale, eyes haunted, and as May stepped forward she raised her hand. “No, it's all right. I'm fine- just a little tired. Agent Triplett and I have come quite a long way in the design of several pieces you'll be needing for your mission. We should have everything ready in the next twenty four hours or so.”

“And Fitz?”

“There's no change.” The sadness in her eyes was replaced for a moment by relief as Trip moved past her, stopping to place a hand on her shoulder and gesture with his chin toward the lab. “We'll be sure to keep you updated.”

“Of course.” She hadn't expected to see Simmons at all that day, found herself leaning more heavily against the counter as the two agents disappeared from her line of sight. Fitz's condition being unchanged was better than the alternative, but in Simmons she'd seen a hopelessness that only increased with each passing day. When things were over and they'd retrieved the 084...something would have to give, and as the silence in the room washed over her May found herself worrying that the person who might give before she did would be Simmons.

 ---

“Are you all right?” She'd heard footsteps crossing the cabin shortly after she'd returned to her bunk, remained leaning against the doorframe as he walked up beside her and stood shoulder to shoulder. His alternate choice of cologne was always subtle, the faint scent of something she'd never managed to identify but was always a comfortable familiarity to her, and she closed her eyes to breathe it in. Wanting the calm it would bring her, even if the object that lay in front of them would still be there when she opened them.

“I never got this.” When she opened her eyes it _was_ still there, and she turned her head to find Coulson's eyes fastened on her, watching carefully as she searched them before turning back to the cramped space. A heavy garment bag took up residence on the bedspread, a creamy white vinyl that stood out against the sharp lines of black and grey that framed her tiny bunk. It had been heavier than she'd imagined when she'd tried to move it, and she'd given up only to leave it collapsed like a headless body on the bed. She had yet to open it, hadn't expected to see it at all and wondered how Skye had convinced him to let her go out and make the purchase. “Trevor and I- we never had this.”

“I'm sorry. Skye came to me- she argued the benefits, and I agreed with her.” When she glanced at him his eyes were distant, and she wondered if he was imagining things _he_ hadn't gotten, the walk down the aisle he'd never made and wanted so badly to. Audrey would have been beautiful in white, wouldn't have had to hide scars from wars she didn't want to fight or battles she'd just barely won. It was safe to assume Audrey didn't have the scar from a bayonet barely missing her right kidney, or skin puckered just beneath her jawline from a bullet grazing the skin. The ring would have been on her finger, not the one it rested on now, and events of life would have turned out much differently for both of them.

“This was hers, wasn't it?” He caught her hand as she lifted it and surprised her by the act, finger rubbing in circles over the stone. She hadn't thought he'd heard, and kept her eyes locked on their joined hands before looking back up. “Audrey's. You were going to propose.”

“I did.” Discomfort had always been an obvious expression on Coulson's face and it hadn't changed with death and resurrection, brows drawn together as his finger continued its nervous trace over the back of her hand. May wanted to pull it away, wanted to go back and put a stop to the entire mission, but she'd learned long ago that going back wasn't ever as easy as going forward. What was done couldn't be _un_ done, and where they were now was nearly to the end of it. “We came to an understanding a while ago- that neither of us were in a place to get married, that neither of us could see anything in our future other than our work. She wasn't ready to stop playing and I wasn't ready to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. Not yet.”

“But people change.” She'd always assumed he'd never had the opportunity to propose, felt an odd twist in her gut at the knowledge that he _had_ but they'd never followed through. Coulson had been her friend long enough she could recognize the signs, know that he was more disappointed at the 'mutual' decision than he'd let on, and that having the ring in such close vicinity had lent more pain to his days than she'd been aware of.

“After the Battle of New York...I was planning on giving my notice, flying to Portland. Telling her I wanted to marry her and I was willing to leave S.H.I.E.L.D.” He would have been satisfied, she knew, going to the orchestra night after night and filling his days spending time with a woman he loved so much.

May didn't know why she reached for his face, feeling the prickle of his skin beneath her thumb as it ran over his jaw. He'd shave before the wedding, but she wondered what it would like to kiss him with a days worth of growth and feel the sandpaper roughness of his face unshaven. She'd kissed him once on a mission, fresh out of the Academy, and his skin had been smooth with youth as hers had- they'd both come so far and had so much farther still that they could go. They wouldn't complete a ceremony but she imagined what his lips would feel like against hers, and wondered if it would be their first mission all over again.

“Oh, hey, guys. You found it.” A voice broke the silence and May was grateful for it, caught the flicker of nostalgia over Coulson's face before turning to see Skye bounce into the cabin. “May, did you look at it yet?”

“No.” She felt her hand drop as Coulson let it go and brushed past, gave Skye a nod before heading up the stairs to his office. “Listen, Skye. About before-”

“Coulson said you were a little worried about the mission- it's no big deal. I've got a call to make to the event center, line up a few more things before the big day. I got your measurements from your file, but you should try that on just in case you _do_ actually have to wear it.”

“I'm sure it's fine.” Her measurements hadn't changed in so long she had every confidence it would be fine if things came to that, and hoped that the wouldn't. No amount of skills could prepare her to fight anyone if she had to when wearing a wedding dress as full as the one she imagined lay within the garment bag. “Thank you for all of your hard work on this. We wouldn't be able to pull this off without you.”

“That's what I'm here for.” The spirited salute was accompanied by a grin and she was off again, spinning on her heels to point a finger back in May's direction. “Oh, and the woman at the boutique saw your picture and told me that you'd look better with it up, so if you want to try a couple of things come and find me. I'm pretty awesome with hair stuff.”

“Copy that.” _Hair_. She was accustomed the pre-mission prep that involved knives and navigating traps, but nothing made her feel more helpless than being the one who stood by and did nothing. And putting her hair into a fancy up-do for a wedding that wasn't going to happen was definitely nothing in her book.

Her toe bumped against a shoebox on the floor as she stepped further into her bunk, and May bent to lift the lid on a pair of sparkling silver heels.

Skye hadn't forgotten anything. She'd even gotten the shoes.

 

 **The Day of the Wedding** \- **Mid Morning**

 

She hadn't meant to do it, and as May stood in the center of the bridal suite with her arms crossed she wondered why she hadn't put her foot down when management had offered her the 'personal attendant'. Skye had encouraged the idea when the website had listed it as an option, and when May had objected Coulson had vetoed and pointed out the benefit to supporting their new identities. But now 'Carmen', as the young woman had cheerfully announced herself, was lying unconscious on the thick eggshell carpeting, and the 'bride-to-be' was seriously considering the idea of climbing out the second story window.

“Before you do that, I'd put something on. It's a little cold outside.” Coulson's voice broke through her reverie, and she spun to see him leaning on the doorway between her suite and his own, watching her with a lopsided smile. “I don't remember approving LaPerla on our budget.”

“You didn't.” She wouldn't tell him that Skye had picked it up at her request, the result of a last minute discovery that the dress needed nothing less than beige undergarments. She hadn't specified the brand itself, but given over an amount of cash that had resulted in Skye's retrieval of 'the only kind of underwear a woman getting married in a _castle_ should wear'. LaPerla had been something she'd read about in magazines at hair salons, earmarking pages when she knew she'd never be coming back to read the same pages again. The creamy satin and lace would be perfectly hidden under the bodice of her dress, and although she knew she wouldn't be wearing it again the tiny piece of her from adolescence was more than happy to hold on to it. “And what did you think I was going to do?”

“Well, I know you, and if there's a body on the floor and you haven't gotten dressed yet I also know that something happened you weren't anticipating.” He considered the limp figure for a moment, bending over to read the smudged silver nametag. “My guess is that 'Carmen' probably saw something she shouldn't have.”

“I was scanning with the infrared, looking for a heat signature. I _knew_ it wasn't a good idea, having them assign me someone. Cover or not, she was bound to get in the way.” _And she did_. The problem would be, now, finding a place to hide her until they found the 084 and made their escape, ensuring that Carmen wouldn't wake up until they'd cleared the building and were on their way back to the Playground. “We're going to have to find this thing fast, Phil. If they come looking for her-”

Few people in her lifetime had become as familiar with the scars on her body as Phil Coulson was, and as she felt his eyes move over her May knew that he remembered how she got them all. Even Trevor hadn't known how the skin just above the rise of her left breast had come to bear the puckered star-shaped mark, or how the long, thin scar had come to exist at the curve of her left hip. She'd never seen the look in Coulson's eyes that she saw then, and as he began to step forward she reached for the leather suit slung haphazardly over a nearby chair.

“From what I can tell they seem to be keeping it in the basement.” She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and began to pull it on, tugging the zipper up to close the front over the sleek undergarments. He wasn't watching anymore, had stopped and looked away as she'd begun to get dressed, was staring absently at the handheld infared scanner in his palm. “I can be in and out in twenty- there's an access staircase just outside.”

They'd discussed the plan en route, settled on Coulson remaining in his own suite and holding off any need to 'check on the bride' by the over helpful staff. He'd offer up the bride's need for solitude prior to the ceremony and chalk it up to anxiety, a claim that was easily backed by May's earlier treatment of the room service and maid staff. The persona Skye had crafted for her hadn't proven difficult to carry out, although she'd felt a pang of regret when the concierge carrying her bags had given Coulson a pitying glance before closing the door behind him.

“It could be anything, May- are you sure you'll have enough time?”

“I have two hours, Phil- there's nothing to worry about. I'll be fine.” She cracked the door open and peered into the empty corridor, tucking a rogue piece of hair behind her ear before slipping out and turning back to look at him. He looked worried, and even though she'd been in charge of retrieval a thousand times before, May couldn't help but feel her stomach twist slightly at the expression on his face. He didn't worry easily, and she'd never let it bother her...until now.


End file.
